


Mood Swings?

by afteriwake



Series: 24/7 [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Allergies, Beds, Comforting Sherlock, Confused Sherlock, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, Established Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper, F/M, False Alarm, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Mood Swings, POV Sherlock Holmes, Pregnant Molly, Relationship History, Sharing a Bed, Sherlock Holmes Has a Heart, Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper Fluff, Talking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-11-07 21:53:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11067867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: Sherlock comes home to Molly sniffling while lying on their bed, and he isn’t sure if it’s mood swings again. When he finds out it isn’t, they talk about the blasted things a bit.





	Mood Swings?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [daisherz365](https://archiveofourown.org/users/daisherz365/gifts), [Mouse9](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mouse9/gifts).



> So this was a fic that was based on a headcanon from **[daisherz365](http://sincerelydayyy.tumblr.com/post/121058568910/let-there-be-headcanons-i)** (" _Sherlock trying his best when Molly is pregnant and getting irritable. Doing everything he can to not make her upset even when she cries over nothing._ ") that was claimed by an anonymous user on my Tumblr as well as **Mouse9** for Sherlolly Spring Fling.

He had decided, long ago, there was no sound in the world he hated more than to hear Molly cry. The first time he had heard her cry it had been muffled sobs coming from the supply room next to the path lab. He had not known the how or the why over why she was crying, and he had told himself he should not care, but the sound had made a sliver of his ice-covered heart melt.

That evening, a strategically placed tabby kitten had found its way outside her flat. He’d damn near tried to tether the animal that would come to be known as Toby in place for fear he would bolt at every horn honk or loud shout, but Molly was there soon enough, her eyes still red-rimmed from her day of trying and failing to hide tears, wide as she saw the scared kitten on her doorstep in need of a home.

That was when he knew the petite pathologist would have a place in his life no other would occupy whether he liked it or not.

He tried his best to deny it. He tried his best to ignore her attempts to ask for a coffee date, brushing it off with a brusque “black, two sugars” even though her coffee was worse than radioactive sludge. He knew she made it with the same strength the men in the military did. Not the doctors like John who needed actual _drinkable_ coffee, but the front line soldiers, the one who saw the true horrors and drank to stay awake on rainy fields to make it home to rainy England. He had deduced long ago about her past, her father being a war veteran. There were little things that gave it away, but the coffee had been the big clue. No human who had better options would drink the sludge.

And yet each cup she handed to him, he dutifully drank. All of it, every drop, every time.

When he started brewing his own coffee that way, John nearly killed him but...he’d grown used to it.

Just as he’d grown used to Molly and all her quirks and foibles and _damn it all_ , despite himself, he fell in love with her.

And it had all started over a cry in the supply closet.

And normally he would never regret it, not for a moment, but this? The constant crying at the drop of a hat? He just wanted her to be _happy_. To smile. To even laugh sometimes. If this was what pregnancy was going to do to her one child would be enough. No more were needed. Son or daughter, it didn’t matter, give him back her beautiful radiant smile and clear sparkling laugh _please._

She was sniffling as she curled up in bed today and he was almost at a loss as to what to do. He had checked for the now slightly obese tabby and he was alive, he wasn’t ill, and he was content to lie in a patch of sunlight on the carpeted floor. There had been no urgent call for a medical emergency so he hoped, he prayed, she hadn’t lost the child. And it wasn’t the anniversary of her father’s death.

So he didn’t know what had set her off this time, aside from hormones.

“Molly?” he asked, keeping his voice gentle. He would never get angry over this because even he knew it was temporary. In a few months, barring postpartum depression, she would be herself again. Should she have that...they would deal with it together. They would make it through. He would be her rock and care for himself elsewhere.

But care for her and the baby first. That was his job now.

She lifted her head up and he saw that she didn’t look sad. It appeared to be...something else. She sneezed and then shut her eyes again. “I bet you thought it was those damnable hormones,” she said, giving a soft chuckle. “Just allergies.”

He gave a slight sigh of relief and went to the bed, rubbing her back. “Is there anything you can take?” he asked.

She nodded. “My doctor gave me something to try but it put me to sleep. Apparently, that didn’t stop the sniffling.” She moved over and he stretched out next to her, wrapping an arm around her waist and rubbing her belly. “Oh, I can’t wait till the blasted mood swings go away. I know you try so hard to tiptoe around me but it must be hard.”

“I’ll do whatever it takes,” he said, pressing a kiss in her hair.

“But I’m constantly irritable, and I snap, and it’s just...this is not me!”

“This is pregnant you,” he said. “And pregnant you is a tiny little terror sometimes.” 

She snorted at that. “Oh, lovely imagery there, Sherlock.”

“Well, let me finish,” he replied. “You are. I never know whether you’re going to yell or cry and it’s hard to deal with. But I know it’s temporary. Or I hope it is. Realistically I know it could not be. But I will endure anything to have you and our child in my life.”

“You say that but what if I toss something at you, like a hairbrush?” she asked.

“I’ll dodge it.”

“A book?”

“If it’s paperback I’ll still love you. Hardcover...there may be talk of a night on the sofa.”

She turned and gave him a smile. “A skillet?”

“Non-stick or cast iron?”

“There’s a difference?”

“Non-stick I may be able to survive getting hit by,” he said. “With your aim, getting hit by a cast iron skillet may make you an incarcerated single parent before the baby is born. Mycroft will fight you for custody. He’ll win, and our child will become the most intolerable thing ever.”

“What?” Molly asked with a giggle.

“A bureaucrat.”

Molly laughed louder this time, and then placed a hand on Sherlock’s chest. “I don’t deserve you.”

“You do,” he said. “It’s the other way around. Always has been.”

“Let’s agree to disagree, shall we?” she said. She lifted her head up and Sherlock shifted onto his back for her to rest her head on his chest. “I feel like taking a nap.”

“Then I’ll be your pillow for the time being,” he said, running his fingers along her arm. Mood swings or not, he realized, there was nothing else he would rather have in the world than this woman by his side.


End file.
